


With You I Am Revealed

by edenbound



Series: shanaqui's Comfortember Fics [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27670988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: Aziraphale is obviously nervous: tweaking his bowtie, fussing in the mirror. Crowley is trying not to be, slouched on the sofa.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: shanaqui's Comfortember Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015975
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	With You I Am Revealed

**Author's Note:**

> For Comfortember prompt #4, "Anxiety".

"It'll be fine," Crowley says, watching Aziraphale's fussy little movements. Tweaking his bowtie into place _just so_ , straightening his lapels, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulder. Crowley slumps further on the worn sofa, stretches out his legs, imagining himself the very picture of cool relaxation. Aziraphale glances at him and seems to take that for what it's worth.

"Will it? I wasn't aware that you, of all people, could predict what the Almighty might take offence to."

There's nothing to say to that. Crowley crosses his legs at the ankle and refuses to look up. He hears the soft puff of Aziraphale's breath as he realises what he's said.

"Oh Crowley, I didn't mean -- "

"You did, though. And you have a point."

Aziraphale crosses the room back to him, sits down next to him, neat and prim and tidy except for the hand he puts on Crowley's knee. "I didn't mean for you to take it personally. Even if it's true."

"I didn't," Crowley says, knowing that Aziraphale knows it for a lie -- knowing that Aziraphale also knows that it doesn't matter. That no matter what he says -- well. There's no need to add more sentimentality to the proceedings. Instead, Crowley turns to Aziraphale and kisses him, a good and proper _distracting_ kiss. Starting chaste and then deepening, with a little nibble at his lower lip and the faintest warm flicker of tongue at the sensitive corner. 

He feels Aziraphale shiver, feels the moment when he gives in and his hands come up to frame Crowley's face and hold him in place there for another kiss and another. 

In the shop below, a clock chimes. Crowley breaks away. Aziraphale is a little ruffled, his bowtie ever so slightly askew, a hint of colour in his face. Crowley's greedy, covetous innermost soul, or what's left of it, files that image away.

"Right," he says, sounding a little breathless. "Let's go get married."

**Author's Note:**

> If you know what song I quoted for the title, you probably expected that last line... [Tracy Chapman's Wedding Song.](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/tracychapman/weddingsong.html)


End file.
